A Letter To All The Boys Who Have Ever Loved Me

Dear ________,

You may have different names. You may be different people. You may have been a part of my life at different times. But, you are all the same. You are all boys who have taught me that boys are just that. They’re boys. They come and they go. Maybe we are friends after the fact or maybe you hate me, but the first thing that always rings true is your love.

You’ve given me the confidence no one else can. You’ve shown me that I’m desirable. You’ve shown me that I am an amazing individual. You’ve shown me that I can accomplish so many things. Thank you for that. I’m the person I am because of you. You’ve helped shape me. We’ve talked for hours on end into the middle of the night. We’ve contemplated life, even imagined a future together. We’ve walked each other through problems. We’ve been each other’s rocks. And yet, we weren’t right for each other. One of us pushed away. Sometimes it was me. Ok, I’ll admit, most of the time, it was me. I’m someone with what they call, “trust issues.” I don’t believe it for a second. Yes, I find it difficult to trust people and you are perhaps one of a handful of people in my life whom I have ever trusted with certain secrets, but I don’t believe for a second that “trust issues” is a real thing — in which case everyone would have it sometime in their life. You are people I trust, so you wonder why I pushed you away. And, maybe I really do owe you an explanation.

Thing is, I don’t know how to deal with love. I never really saw what non-familial love is. Even familial love is a fairly foreign concept to me. I got close to you because I trusted you. I probably still do. But when push came to shove, you got too close. I need love, but I don’t know what to do with it. I let you get closer because I craved attention. There it is. I never had the attention I felt I deserved when I was younger and I made up for it as I grew up through becoming a social butterfly. Yet, I was never popular. I carried myself in a way that gave me access to the friendships of many, but the love of none. I knew everyone, and everyone knew me; however, I didn’t really have any friends. I had a few in high school, barely a handful, and as I graduated, I realized the number of them who were actual friends. I could probably stretch the number to 3 if I tried really hard. In college, I found friends who actually, genuinely cared about me.

I found a roommate who appreciates who I am. No matter how messy and quirky I am; no matter how much I make fun of her, she’s always there making sure I get home safe and contemplating life at odd hours of the night. In this environment, I’ve strived and I’ve grown. I’ve been able to discover who I am in the moments of fear while walking alone late at night, happiness when I wake up to breakfast made by the beloved roomie, frustration while discovering just how difficult ochem is, and overwhelming sadness when the dog dies in that movie you’re watching at 3AM. My roommate has opened doors for me that I didn’t even know existed. She’s there when I need someone to talk to. She tiptoes around without complaining when I’m studying for a big exam. She makes me breakfast when she has the time. She opens her heart up to me and allows me to feel safe and comfortable enough to do the same. My roommate is the sister I never had. She understands when to talk and when to let my thoughts run their course. She tells me when I’m wrong and she confirms my thoughts when I’m right. She doesn’t let me text the wrong boys. She keeps me from embarassing myself. She’s there for me in a way that no one else ever has. That’s the closest I’ve come to love outside of my family. When middle schoolers sign yearbooks with “LYLAS” or “love you like a sister”, it never seems real, but this sisterly love really is. I’ve found my long lost sister — my “sister from another mother”.

My sister came around my sophomore year and two of you came around in my first year of college, preceding her. I was naïve and inexperienced. We became friends because that’s just the kind of person I am — I’m friendly and a people-person. You took advantage of that. I set standards for myself and slowly you ripped them apart. I settled. That’s not the kind of person I am. I’ve always reached for the stars — and gotten there. No, for the first time in my life, I stooped down and stayed there, on the ground. This isn’t my way of making you feel bad. No, you were a nice guy. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not because of looks or attractiveness. The thing that was wrong was the fact that we ever even spent time together as more than friends. I don’t necessarily regret the times we spent together, but I know it should never have happened. I can’t place blame on anyone but myself in that aspect. I allowed you to break the barriers I had set for myself. I stood aside and watched you make your way past each wall I had built. I let it happen and that’s my fault. I’m sorry for that.

What I really want to say to you is thank you. Thank you for teaching me to respect myself. Thank you for teaching me that I am better than I believe. Thank you for teaching me to embrace my beauty. Thank you for teaching me about what love can be. Thank you.

With Love,

A beautiful girl who loves herself